


Christmas Miracle Number Three

by junichiblue



Category: Bleach
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Accidental Kissing, Arguing, Arrancar, Awkward Kissing, BoyxBoy, Christmas, Christmas Presents, Crack, Eggnog, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Espada, Excessive Drinking, Falling In Love, Fluff, GrimmIchi - Freeform, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Kissing, Kuorsaki Isshin's A+ Parenting, M/M, Naughty Santa, Play Fighting, Romance, Smooching, Threats of Violence, yoruichi and urahara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:34:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21892981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junichiblue/pseuds/junichiblue
Summary: When the psychotic ex-Espada shows up on Ichigo's roof looking for their final fight to the death at Christmas time, Ichigo sees only one option...“Che. Don't be such a glory hog,” Grimmjow rumbled beside him.“Shut up and drink your eggnog.”And Grimmjow did. He threw the bulk of it back, in fact, in one long luxurious swallow. And Ichigo's eyes naturally fixated on the deep, hard plunge and rise of his Adam's apple. It wasn't hot or anything. It was just interesting mechanics.Post war - Grimmjow returns and gets trapped in Kurosaki Family Christmas eve hell, but doesn't mind the nog... or the kiss. - Christmas grimmichi crack.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 27
Kudos: 279





	Christmas Miracle Number Three

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sayhitoforever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayhitoforever/gifts), [murderlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/murderlight/gifts).



> I'd hoped to finish the next FMM chapter by Christmas, but we're not quite there yet. However, this rooftop scenario popped into my head a few days ago. And how else does a writer and Grimmichi shipper say Merry Christmas to one and all grimmichi fans! I hope you enjoy it. And if you do, kudos are beautiful, but comments are how I jam with you, and they fill my soul with joy. So does eggnog.  
> I've gifted this work to two inspiring people.

**Christmas Miracle Number Three**  
  


Christmas eve was a cold one this year. A layer of snow blanketed the yard. It was dark already, the winter solstice having only just passed. It'd be weeks before the days grew longer in any noticeable way.

Inside though, the house was a warm oasis and smelled of Yuzu's baking.

Melted butter, caramelized sugar, and flour cooling in a pan on the counter in the kitchen. Her homemade eggnog chilling in the fridge, separated into two bowls; a virgin batch for her and Karin, and another one potent enough to put hair on Ichigo's chest - or strip it from Isshin's - that is, if Ichigo was capable of sporting hair on his chest. The curse of being smooth was just one of his many burdens to bare.

Yeah, the eve before Christmas, and there was no place like his warm living room, full of the sharp foresty pine scent of their Christmas tree and the warm glow of blinking lights, his sister's laughter and bickering, even his crazy father's terrible rendition of “Any-man-who-touches-his-precious-angels nuts roasting on an open fire”.

So, then why the hell was he standing outside in the dark, all alone, leaning against the roof of his family home. He could see for a mile around him, up and down the street, and nobody else was climbing onto their damn roofs tonight. Just him.

That was the question that burned a dark scowl into Ichigo's face as he dragged the second batch of looped, coloured lights up the ladder and tossed them far enough over his head to land partway up the pitch.

He watched it for a second, waiting with fatalistic anticipation for it to laugh at him and slide back down the roof before plummeting over the edge. Been there done that.

But it stayed.

That was Christmas miracle number one.

The cause of his situation was this. Isshin had decided a week ago that Ichigo was going to be the one to put the lights up this year, because he was now the man of the house and one of his manly duties was to ensure his sisters had a perfect Christmas. Except he had maliciously decided not to tell him that in so many words. And then the clinic got busy.

After the first few days into the week of the twenty fifth, the girls had asked why there were no decorations outside yet. And Isshin had only sharpened the backbone of his morning paper, and said, go ask Ichigo.

Ichigo had just shrugged, naturally. It wasn't his operation. But he'd started to feel annoyed about the bare ass house by the end of it too, and had gone and dragged the decorations from storage as far as the front hall. There. He felt pretty good about that. He'd helped.

But as the last 24 hours rolled by, and Isshin ignored the boxes by basically leaving the house for the day, Ichigo did the same. If his old man wanted decorations, he'd put up decorations. If he had some other plan in mind, why didn't he just say it? He was such a passive aggressive asshole sometimes, only second to Ishida, and it made Ichigo want to tear his hair out.

His father did it every year. Why should this year be any different?

But when Isshin came home, just in time to take his place around the table for a family dinner... he made a declaration.

No Christmas until the house was fully decorated and glowing bright enough to confuse the local fauna into thinking it was daylight. By Ichigo.

No Christmas eve gifts. No music. And definitely no eggnog.

And the rest of the family...

They'd turned on him so fast...

Like animals.

Shuddering from the chill, despite his winter jacket, and carefully creeping upwards, one flattened, angled foot after another, like some kind of night burglar, Ichigo inched up the slope of the roof until he reached the hoop of lights.

And then he remembered that he had one more run to make before he could get on with things. He sighed and inched back down and onto to the ladder. It was just one more trip.

Christmas miracle number two wasn't what he was expecting, or hoping for. Ever.

“Oy. Kurosaki. Just the piece of shit I was looking for.”

Ichigo jolted up so fast, he lost his grip and windmilled. And for a long terrifying moment, he thought he was going to pitch backwards and fall to his death.

Grabbing the ladder and hugging it while he panted like a racehorse, he looked up sourly to see if the voice belonged to the person he thought it did.

It did. Maybe he'd have been better off if he'd let go of the ladder.

It was Grimmjow. Jaegerjaquez.

That guy he'd fought on three bloodbathing occasions. The one who'd shown up to help them against Yhwach for reasons Ichigo still didn't fully understand. Because there was no way Grimmjow's only reason was so he could save Hueco Mundo and use it as a staging ground to kill Ichigo. That was just... some _thing_.. that he'd said. A brush off.

And now, here he was in just his long black jumper and that familiar white vest that used to show off so much skin, Ichigo figured the guy had to be at least some kind of pervert. And keeping the scar Ichigo had given him as a giant fuck-off reminder that he had a debt to pay for giving it to him in the first place... well that was just a perversion of a different kind.

The air was crisp and still, no clouds to keep in the day's meagre warmth across a broad night sky prickling with cold stars. Ichigo had to keep moving to stay warm, despite wearing his favourite warm winter jacket with the fur lined hood that fanned out across his shoulders. He had fingerless gloves too, so he could manipulate the lights, but his fingers were already going numb, the cold already pretty much sapping most of his fine motor skills.

And here was Grimmjow, slice of chest out and arms bare, and inhumanly sharp looking teeth bared like he was going to chew a hole through his face.

Bare arms. But damn, Ichigo felt colder just looking at him.

“Grimmjow,” he blurted. “What...”

Why are you here? What the hell are you doing at my house? You took off. What the hell makes you think it's even okay for you to show up at my house? And by the way, what the fuck?

“What the hell do you want?” he finally managed, un-apologetically blunt.

He couldn't find a reason to be friendly. Grimmjow had fucked off on them the moment something shiny and killable had caught his eye. So much for working as a team. And then he'd mostly died or something.

And Ichigo hadn't seen him since then. Not that he cared. He didn't miss the way his heart had turned up the rpms the moment they'd been reintroduced. How fast and hard his guard had gone up. How he'd just about thrown himself into a fight right in the middle of a much bigger fight. Seven months ago.

Ichigo didn't give a shit about what the blue haired menace had been up to since then. And he had almost completely put it all behind him.

Grimmjow tilted his head in that calculating way he'd seen him do before, and for a moment Ichigo thought he might just give him the shove he needed.

“War may be over, but we still have a debt to settle. You and I. So, get yer bankai out and let me kick the shit out of you.”

Ichigo scowled.

Sentimental bastard.

Ichigo debated letting go of the ladder and sliding straight down to the bottom like a reverse slip and slide. But running was for other people. So, instead, he did the least sane thing he could think of, and pulled himself up to the second last step, carefully planting his sneakered feet against the roof, one leg bent at the knee while the other braced against on the slope.

Up to face the former Espada that hovered an inch above the shingles that covered his family's heads.

“I can't. I'm busy right now.” He sounded haughty and petulant, even to his own ears, but he couldn't even say that Grimmjow's appearance had appreciably ruined his night. Not yet. And not by a long shot.

The growl sounded a little like a faulty exhaust at first, but quickly turned into a very clear slew of curses. In his name.

In a blur of speed he should have expected, Ichigo felt his heel take a hit that felled him like a dried out Christmas tree. Grimmjow had hooked his foot out from under him, and now he lay, locked up with pain against the slope of the roof.

A black souled foot slammed against him, grinding into his chest like it was a welcome mat for sadists.

“Alright! Alright!” he yelled, grappling with the sandled foot and finally sitting up with effort only when the pressure was lifted enough that he _could_ , before swiping Grimmjow's leg away.

“Fine! But can we hurry up and get this fight to the death over with?!” He pointed at the writhing mass of lights he'd nearly landed on. “I have to get these stupid Christmas decorations up or I'm gonna miss out on the whole night!”

Because he just knew, in his bones, that Isshin couldn't _not_ do Christmas with the girls. They would totally start without him.

Totally.

For a really long moment, Grimmjow just looked at him with the careful eye of someone expecting a whole lot more, and just not getting it.

Ichigo had basically just said he wasn't going to die in a fight with Grimmjow... ergo Grimmjow would be the one to die. And yet, Grimmjow couldn't quite muster the ass-load of indignation that assertion should be setting off.

Probably because at the same time, it occurred to him that Ichigo just didn't get it. Or didn't care. Because he had more important things to do... than fight Grimmjow... 

Now that little trinket did get under his skin.

“You do realize,” he drawled without humour, “that a fight to the death means one of us dies, right? And that it's gonna be you... right?”

Ichigo's pissy expression didn't twist into apprehension or fear as Grimmjow might have liked. If anything, it just got pissier.

“Keh. Whatever, asshole.” Ichigo had never been scared of Grimmjow, apart from their first disaster of a meeting, and apart from the moments where the tables had turned on Ichigo like the flip of a coin on the very precipice of Grimmjow's defeat.

Seven months.

And of all the shitty timing.

“You know what, I don't have time for this, right now. So just... either get lost or grab some lights and help me untangle these... fucking....”

He swore they were untangled before he'd climbed on the roof.

His hands grabbed, pulled, twisted, and grappled until they became an angry blur in front of his face and all he'd accomplished was squat, and he was puffing and huffing and red faced and ready to throw them out onto the driveway.

But he wouldn't get any eggnog if he did that.

“You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me.” Was Kurosaki actually giving him the cold shoulder? Outrage built and spread like an inferno until he was seething in unbreathing silence.

And then...

In a wispy blur that Ichigo could only barely follow while in human form, the lights untangled themselves and plastered their way like falling dominoes along the eaves below, up the sides of the slope, and across the ridge of the roof. All on their own.

In a scratch of air, Grimmjow re-appeared, looking every bit as pissed off as he had before he'd disappeared. Ichigo looked from him to the lights and back.

Sonido.

“Oh, my god....” he muttered. “I can't believe... I didn't even... think...” he said a little dumbly to himself.

When Grimmjow stepped in front of him, with all the aloof composure of a man who hadn't just decorated the Kurosaki family home, and who was in fact an arrancar looking for a fight, Ichigo was still gaping at the roof from one end to the other, almost too caught up in his own embarrassing oversight to willingly acknowledge the hollow hovering in front of him.

“I... “ But finally, he turned, just all around confused, really. “Thank you...?”

Grimmjow lifted his lip in disgust.

“Peh. I didn't do it for you, asswipe. I did it for me. Now let's go!”

“But... Wait! We have to turn them on. See if they work.”

Hands in his pockets and head tilting in disbelief and disgust, Grimmjow watched him turn and backwards-crawl over the top of the ladder.

“We...?” 

“Yup.”

“What the fuck is we?”

“Don't you want to see them?”

“Peh.” Grimmjow spat to the side to emphasize his point, in case Kurosaki didn't get it.

Christmas. It wasn't for him. It was for the living.

The directive that floated up to him was muffled in the folds of Ichigo's winter jacket, but the irritation was clear as bells.

“Don't spit on our roof!”

Leaning out, hands shoved deep in his pockets, Grimmjow could only see the crown of his orange head as he descended the ladder.

“Too late,” he called down.

“Dick,” came the distant curse.

His fingers were mostly frozen by now. But he quickly got the plug lined up against the outlet by the driveway and pushed it in.

Not-daylight threw its colours down over him, turning the blanket of snow on the lawn into a shimmery rainbow of yellows, reds, greens, and blues. He stepped back a few paces.

Blue.

“It looks good!” he called up, knowing full well that Grimmjow's interest in anything other than fighting and killing him was non-existent.

There was a brief pause. Then just the impatient voice of an asshole with ambition.

“Whatever. Let's go already.”

Ichigo glared up at the empty edge of the roof, and answered in a half shout.

“I told you, Grimmjow,” he pulled the ladder away from the roof. Grimmjow didn't need it. “I can't right now. Maybe in a couple of days.”

Grimmjow or not, fighting was just the last thing on his mind right now. He unhooked the safety catch and the extendable ladder slid down and slammed together with a heavy metal clang.

“You waited this long,” he called up. “What's a few more days?”

Grimmjow blurred.

“Fucking wasted trip.” That was the short and surly answer. And right beside his ear, making Ichigo jump.

And then, on some inexplicable whim of self destruction, Ichigo went and said something so stupid, so irresponsible, that, not for the first time, he doubted his own survival instincts.

“It doesn't have to be." He brought the garage door down hard on the mockery that he knew would come. "Yuzu's making eggnog.” When it instantly didn't, “You can come in and have some..." he took it as not-dismissal and figured he'd forge on, because he'd invite _anyone_ in on a night like this. Anyone. He straightened but didn't turn. "If you promise to act like a sane person for tonight. Or at least until you leave." Now he was just babbling, and scowling and making numb, achy fists out of frozen fingers. "Then you can go ape shit however much you want in Hueco Mundo.”

There was zero response for a frozen breath.

Did disbelief have a sound?

“I'm promising to break your bones and choke you out with your own intestines. Why the hell would you invite me into your house?” Grimmjow demanded.

Ichigo felt a little defensive

“It's Christmas. We have eggnog and presents and do family shit and...”

“I ain't your family.” There was a little more snap and snarl in that. Well, that was more like normal. More like something familiar that Ichigo could appreciate.

“You didn't let me finish,” Ichigo cut in irritably. “...And we always invite wild, murderous psychopaths into our home for the holidays. It's a Christmas tradition.” It really was not.

And Ichigo knew with one hundred percent certainty, that he could not trust the former Espada to behave like a civilized human being. Or a civilized Espada. Whatever.

And yet somehow, as short lived as it might be, he was willing to give it the small chance it deserved. Because Christmas.

Grimmjow looked at him consideringly.

“What's eggnog?”

Seriously, Ichigo could never quite pinpoint what would set him off and what wouldn't. And how did he know about Christmas and not eggnog?

“It's good. Creamy. It has eggs and nutmeg and cinnamon. And my sister puts way too much rum in it and...” He trailed off and a light flickered on in his head. “On second thought... I don't know if giving you alcohol is such a good idea.”

Grimmjow's eyes lit up with a less than honourable gleam.

“I want it.”

If he wasn't getting a blood match tonight, then he'd make do with some spirits, or at least watch Ichigo get shitfaced. That oughta be good for a laugh. Either way, Ichigo was no match for him, buzzed or not.

Ichigo looked at him with squinted eyes and dubious concern. For his house. Not Grimmjow.

“Have you ever had...”

“Of course I have, dipshit. We have moonshine in Hueco Mundo.”

Ichigo started walking.

“Well, how the hell should I know? Aizen didn't invite me there for drinks, asswipe.”

Grimmjow followed, making the snow under his feet creak.

“Never invited you there at all. Not that that'd ever stop _you_ , huh? Bargin' in where you're not wanted.”

“Says the barge-ee...” He snorted. “All you ever _do_ is barge.”

“Fuck you. I make great snap decisions. And I'm an effective opportunist.”

“Write me a resume.”

Ichigo pushed into the warm house first, shedding his jacket and yelling indiscriminately.  
  
“Lights are up! Give me presents!”

“Great!” came Isshin's over exuberant bark of pseudo-pious joy. There was the clatter of a herd of elephants. Or three pairs of feet and two stuffed bear paws. “Now let's all embark on a journey of magic and wonderment...”

The herd swung around the corner to the hallway, where they skidded to a stop, and Isshin immediately choked on his own eyeballs. Four mouths hung open, bodies jammed together like a bunch of oddly sized grapes where they'd slid to a stop and piled into each other. He'd anticipated a reaction but.. well this was very awkward.

“I uh... brought a guest,” Ichigo said a little weakly. “Surprise.”

“... A guest...” Isshin mouthed slowly. His eyes were still wide with shock, but the tension around them was tenth level of hell type stuff.

Then, like a dropped glass Christmas ball, it shattered.

“A guest! In our humble home! On Christmas eve! How wonderful!” He threw his arms out and started to step forward.

“And this is?...”

Ichigo sidestepped in front of the Espada, blocking both Isshin from Grimmjow's murderous impulses, and Grimmjow from his father's affectionate attack. They hurt more than they helped.

“Grimmjow. And you're _not_ hugging him.”

Isshin's arms fell. And his face fell. But he'd get over it.

“He'd better fuckin' not,” said Grimmjow flatly.

“And Grimmjow is?...” Isshin prompted, fake smile – yep, that was a fake smile - returning to his face. Isshin had a clue, but he wanted Ichigo to confirm it before he decided his next move. Which, Ichigo decided, had better be out-of-the-way. His frozen finger tips were starting to buzz and the only buzz he wanted tonight was from his traditional Christmas eve eggnog. He'd only graduated to the adult version last year, but with the winter war in full force, he'd gone easy. This year, he had no battles to fight in the morning. No one to save.

“Aizen's former Espada number Six, Aspect of Destruction,” Grimmjow supplied in way more honest detail than Ichigo was willing to provide. He gave a curt, self satisfied nod. “Now free-agent.”

“Uhhhuuhhh.... Well that's... Uhh... “ Isshin's fake smile grew to unnerving proportions, his eyes slitted into a kind of unnerving smile. “Well Grimmjow guest-san, if you don't mind, we have a no-swords policy in effect tonight.” He held his hands out, palms flat to take the blade, which was not, by the way, how Ichigo would ever hand off a sword.

Grimmjow looked at them. Ichigo looked at Grimmjow. Grimmjow didn't budge.

“This sword doesn't leave my belt, unless it's to gut someone.”

“It'll be fine, dad.” Teeth clenched, he glared at Grimmjow, and said, much more doubtfully than he wanted, “It'll be fine. Right?”

Grimmjow only levelled him a look that held even more chill than the frigid air outside.

“Where's this egg nog?”

Ichigo blinked.

Right.

A few minutes - and some arguing over mug sizes on Grimmjow's part - later, and they all convened in the living room.

“Ahhhhhhh,” his father sighed on his first big sip of nog. “Delicious! Yuzu, once again, my darling daughter, you have outdone yourself.”

Everybody hummed and toasted in agreement.

“I put up the lights,” Ichigo muttered, indignant and a little under-appreciated. They hadn't even gone out to look at them in the end. What the hell?

“Che. Don't be such a glory hog,” Grimmjow rumbled beside him.

Ichigo's jaw dropped a little, and he opened his mouth with absolutely nothing nice to say. But the eggnoggy moustache on Grimmjow's upper lip obliterated any chance of him coming out with a good burn back. So he settled for a sulky, snappy grumble.

“Shut up and drink your eggnog.”

And Grimmjow did. He threw the bulk of it back, in fact, in one long luxurious swallow. And Ichigo's eyes naturally fixated on the deep, hard plunge and rise of his Adam's apple. It wasn't hot or anything. It was just interesting mechanics.

Eyes narrowed and feeling that something was not quite right, Grimmjow licked the cream coloured moustache from his lip with a slow caress from the curved tip of his tongue. Then he wiped his mouth on his forearm like a heathen for good measure.

“Shit's not bad. 'Give you that.” He turned for the kitchen. “If I'm gonna put up with you any longer, I'm gonna get more.”

Ichigo felt a small swell of pride that he knew didn't really belong to him, but right now, he'd take it.

“Told you,” he muttered to his back.

Ichigo startled when his father jumped up and announced much louder than he needed to...

“Presents! It's time for the Kurosaki family gift exchange!”

“Alright!” yelled Kon.

Everybody whooped. Everybody but Grimmjow, who was concentrating on getting the nog from the giant glass bowl, via a large and cumbersome ladle, and into the substantially smaller mug without dripping. 

Kon bounced across the carpet on two springy legs, from the tree and back, until everyone had a small gift in hand. A tiny, fluffy delivery boy, Ichigo mused with a fond smirk.

Then silence. And the rustle and tearing of recycled wrapping paper.

“Whoah,” Kon blinked black beaded eyes, and held out Ichigo's gift in shiny-eyed awe. What did you get a mod-soul-stuffed bear for Christmas? That.

“Awww, thank you, Ichi-ni!” Yuzu hugged her ultra stylish, winter beanie and gloves to her tiny frame, then started to tug them on.

“Cool.” Karin waved her Reaper's hockey jersey at Ichigo. She may have even smiled.

Isshin looked at the framed photo of the family that sat reverently on the wrapping paper in his lap, edited to include Masaki. It was creepy as hell, but he just knew his father would appreciate it.

“Ichigo, these are supposed to be small gifts,” Isshin sweated from the corner.

Ichigo shrugged. They were small gifts. These were his sisters. His father. His mod-soul. His family.

He felt the hint of warmth at his side again, and knew on instinct that Grimmjow had returned from filling his mug to the brim. And probably drinking from the bowl.

“Hugs and kisses to my beautiful family! Masaki! We've done such a wonderful job! Our daughters are so smart and strong, and our delinquent son has opened his heart through the power of gift giving!”

“You want me to kill him? Cuz' I can do that.”

Ichigo perked up.

“Maybe... NO. It's good.”

Isshin shot up from his seat, mistletoe miraculously in hand, and dove for Yuzu.

The mistletoe brandishing freak.

Ichigo scowled in preemptive defensive threat as his father assaulted his family members, one by one, then finally turned on him.

“No, dad.”

“My son.”

Ichigo stood his ground, every inch of him growling do not touch.

“Thank you is enough.”

Isshin kept advancing.

“This is why I don't do Christmas,” Grimmjow leaned in, breathing rum infested eggnog all down and over Ichigo's face. “Breaks people's minds.” It smelled weirdly good.

“Trust me. He was already broken.”

“Bring it in. Let daddy give you a platonic fatherly kiss on the cheek.”

Going red faced, Ichigo choked and threw his arms across and up as a shield.

“That makes it sound even more perverted, you pervert!”

And still, Isshin raised the offensive leafy albatross over Ichigo's angry face. It was Christmas, so, for the sake of his sisters, and world peace, he was trying with every fibre he had to cut his dad some slack, and not punch him across the room until he really really deserved it.

Ichigo leaned away, but all it did was bump him up against a shoulder made of bricks.

“Oy,” came the irritable rebuff.

Old man lips puckered up into a ball of kissy faced horror worthy of making Ichigo violently ill from this close, or any distance.

Isshin deserved it.

But Ichigo couldn't do it. Not yet. Not because it was Christmas. But maybe because he was trying to prove his family wasn't completely dysfunctional. Even though they clearly were.

Ichigo threw his free arm out against Isshin's forehead to hold his affection-starved father back, rising up onto his toes and bending backwards as he leaned out of reach. Sensing imminent defeat, Ichigo turned at the waist, body twisting like a corkscrew, until his face was as far in the opposite direction from his father's as he could make it go without breaking bones.

Which landed him square against Grimmjow's face.

He had been standing, mostly in silence beside him, watching Kurosaki come unglued over a simple kiss. But also gross and understandable. And yet, when Ichigo turned in his direction, he saw an opening, and on instinct, took it. Just like in a fight. Just another chance to embarrass Ichigo, and outdo him.

He wasn't really gonna do it. That'd be gross. But he wasn't expecting Ichigo to turn quite as sharply as he did.

There wasn't even a communal gasp from around them. Just wrenching silence.

They both blinked at each other, the blue and orange coloured lenses of wide eyeballs millimetres apart, noses crushed together painfully.

And lips.

Stiff and un-moving.

And then... moving?

A critical error message flashed across the landscape of Ichigo's mind as Grimmjow's mouth pressed against his. Large, rough hands suddenly cradled his cheeks to push them both apart, while Ichigo promptly dropped his nog all over the living room floor and grabbed onto Grimmjow's thick biceps to do the same.

Instead, they seemed to pull together, Grimmjow leaning in for more hard, shocked and sweet noggie kiss.

Ichigo felt his face heat up from hands and blood and the soft, curious tip of a warm tongue...

And then they popped apart. Breathless and panting.

“Girls! Look away! Daddy's mistletoe tradition has been tainted!”

Ichigo jerked, and went red down through to his bones.

Shit.

The whole family had just seen that. Whatever the hell that was. Well, clearly, it was a kiss but...

“Well, at least somebody here is getting some action,” Kon pouted.

And then everyone burst into twenty conversations at once, most of them directed at Ichigo.

He could hardly hear them for the blood rushing through his ears.

He stuttered an explanation with the best of his overheated and curdled mental resources for their inappropriate and highly highly accidental contact, only once daring to shoot a light-speed side-glance towards the other half of their mutual catastrophe.

The Espada was just joking around. Having some fun. Because that's what Espada class Hollows sometimes do when they're not out looking for fights and killing Shinigami... He explained it until it made sense to no one, all the while scratching a bald patch into the back of his head, eyes slitted shut in a defensive nervous smile. 

Grimmjow had gone mute.

And a little cross-eyed honestly as he held two long fingers to his lips in what looked like shock and a terminal case of wonderment.

“So, are you dating now?” Yuzu's final, bold, and still so innocent question shut everyone up.

Ichigo snapped his jaw shut. He felt dizzy.

The silence of the room made the short, ripping hum of sonido seem louder than it should.

And an empty space appeared.

Someone gasped.

Ichigo gawked.

He'd gone.

Hell, he'd run.

He still felt dizzy. And now he felt a sinking numbness too. Well fine. Ichigo didn't need his attitude or threats anyway. Or his joke kisses. He knew that's what it had been. A joke gone wrong. And whatever. His Christmas was perfectly fine with just his family. Who needed someone at Christmas time anyway? Wait...

Ten minutes of surly, slouching, silence from Ichigo, and his father, and sisters, and Kon all giving him wary but clearly judgmental side glances, and the enjoyment in the room had dulled. At least in his corner.

It was the clatter of the front door opening and shutting that had Ichigo sitting bolt up, then jumping to his feet, fists curled on instinct, because no one else should be walking into their home tonight.

A burglar? Why not? It'd be just what the night called for, wouldn't...

And then Grimmjow strode into the room. Without a word, and in the unfriendliest way possible. He walked right up to Ichigo and slapped him right in his dumb face with something that was... plush?

It fell apart in his hands when he grabbed for it. No. Not apart.

Ichigo blinked. It was one long piece of fabric, with fringes. A scarf. 

“What the hell?” he snapped, less concerned about the item in his hands than the fact that Grimmjow had basically tried to jam it down his throat.

“It's a scarf, dipshit.”

“I know it's a scarf,” Ichigo growled. “Why the hell are you throwing it at me?”

“You were cold earlier. It was annoying.”

Ichigo blanked out.

“You gave me a gift. I'm not gonna owe you...”

Ichigo cut in, confused and flustered, and processing.

“A gift? This is a gift?” Oh my god. A bloom of confused warmth and happiness started to spread through him from the base of his stomach and... “Wait. Where the hell did you get this?” He held it out, saw a name-tag, and scowled. “Never mind. I don't want to know.

“I'm not gonna owe you...” Grimmjow ground out again. In case Ichigo missed it the first time.

“It's Merry Christmas actually. And thank you, Grimmjow. It's great.” He would totally have to find the kid it belonged to and return it in the morning. On second thought... what were the chances of that. Maybe he could wear it for a day or two at least.

“Does this mean every time I accidentally kiss you, you're going to run out and buy me a present?”

It was meant to be a joke.

A shortsighted. Terrible. Badly thought out... joke.

But Grimmjow blinked back at him like he'd shorted a fuse. Or two.

Feeling like he ought to say something to break the sudden, lung compressing tension, Ichigo searched for a way out.

“Eggnog?” he offered conversationally.

A beat. And then. Finally...

“No.”

Grimmjow's eyes had gone a little icier than usual. And Ichigo's hopes for a smooth transition from awkward to less awkward went up the chimney in smoke.

“Fine... more for me...” he said maturely.

He froze when Grimmjow leaned in on him, his height so much more apparent while he was this close.

“No. Not...” he snapped impatiently. “I'm having more of that. But you think just because you slapped yer lips against mine for two seconds, that I'm gonna give you gifts?”

And now he was giving him... shit? Ichigo felt like he was sweating eggnog through his shirt.

“Can you rephrase the question?” he croaked. Was that his voice?

“It'd take a _lot_ more kissing than that before I'd even _consider_ getting you another gift. Ever.”

“-What?”

“Oh, Ichigo... my darling boy... giving a scarf to the elderly is the embodiment of respect.”

“I'm not elderly!” “Shut it!” The two of them snapped as one, and Isshin immediately slinked away to hide with Kon on the couch.

Their discussion melted into hissing and bickering over who did what first, and who's fault it actually was - Ichigo's of course for giving Grimmjow eggnog in the first place - for about thirty seconds before it was broken up by the only person who dared.

“If this is what relationships are like, count me out.” Karen mumbled into her secretly spiked nog before she handed the glass to Yuzu.

“It's exactly what they're like, sweet daughter of mine. It's beautiful and tragic at the same time, but we have a new family member on this Hallowed eve.”

"Quit mixing your holidays!"

Grimmjow scowled with the force of someone hell bent on rejecting the idea of being adopted by such a bonafide fuck up of a family. He didn't need adopting. He just needed more nog.

“This calls for the big guns,” exclaimed Isshin, who marched over to the record player and plucked a record from its sleeve.

Ichigo rolled his eyes.

“Here we go.”

**Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire**  
**(The Christmas Song)**  
**Nat King Cole**

But the low and slow thrum of Isshin's favourite Christmas song wasn't all that bad.

**_Chestnuts roasting on an open fire_ **  
**_Jack Frost nipping at your nose_ **

Kon brightened up and somehow managed to cross his fuzzy little legs seiza style on the couch.

_**Yuletide carols being sung by a choir** _  
_**And folks dressed up like Eskimos** _

“Oooh, I love this song.”

Ichigo squinted.

“You would. Betrayer.”

Kon wrinkled his nose back at him, then took one look at Grimmjow's face and slammed himself back out of sight behind Yuzu.

Grimmjow's nose was wrinkled too, and his usual scowl was now nothing short of a Mariana trench between his eyes.

_**They know that Santa's on his way** _  
_**He's loaded lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh** _

“Why are we listening to this?”

“Because. Shut up and listen.”

_**And every mother's child is gonna spy** _  
_**To see if reindeer really know how to fly** _

“They fuckin' don't. Why would you make up shit like that?”

“It makes kids happy!”

“Messes with their reality. Humanity is so fucked up.”

“Oh my god, Grimmjow! It's just a song for - ”

_Ho ho.... Wooah! Hoo Hoooo Hahaaaa....._

“What the heck was that?” Ichigo swivelled his head to pinpoint the new sound. It was most definitely not part of the song.

The cries were loud enough to be heard over Isshin's music and through the living room windows, like they came from just outside. It sounded like someone was leaving a Christmas party a little later than they should have.

_Ching... ching... ching..._

Then came the shiny, tinny sound of a hundred little bells not quite all hitting at the same time, but chiming together in a bouncy rhythm.

Ichigo moved first. He whipped the curtains open and scowled up through the glass.

“Hollows?” Grimmjow budged up beside him, no space at all between their shoulders. Ichigo noticed it like a bomb going off. And even if Grimmjow was the slightest bit drunk and it had mellowed his shit out, he realized he didn't mind. He really didn't.

“You gon' get that then?”

The living room was dim enough that he didn't need to cut the light with his hands, when he finally saw something sparking across the night sky, coming at them low and from the side. It put it on a direct course past the the front of the house.

“I don't think that's a Hollow, Grimmjow.”

Ichigo squinted as the unearthly sounds and alien craft got close enough to take on a familiar shape.

Familiar. But not on your life.

“Oh, my god. No.”

_“Oohoohooo Haahaaa!”_

_The crack of a whip._

_“Oooh, Santa, you kinky old bastard! That hurt! Do it again!”_

And that was no reindeer pulling the sleigh.

“Nope!” Ichigo slammed the curtains together with two balled fists. “Yuzu. Karin. You're not allowed to look.”

“But I wanna see Santa.” Kon and Yuzu nodded in resolve.

“It's a Christmas miracle!” Isshin cried, throwing his arms around Yuzu in a lopsided bear hug that missed Karin by inches.

“Yer the miracle,” Grimmjow muttered just purposely loud enough that everybody heard him.

“I'm going outside,” Karin grunted.

Everybody followed.

Even Grimmjow, who looked more curious than murderous, but would definitely not be getting the right idea about what he was about to see. Ichigo couldn't stop them. So he went with them too.

Isshin was already down the front steps and gawking myopically at the Christmas-like spectacle.

The girls were beside him, Kon already shivering valiantly on Yuzu's shoulder. Grimmjow was stood on higher ground, naturally, on the landing. Ichigo sighed and stepped out the door, pulling it closed behind him. He already missed the heat, the small amount of alcohol in his veins already thinning his blood.

_“Merry Christmas Kurosakiiiissss... and Arrancar Sannnnn.....Woo hoo!”_

He needed more alcohol.

Ichigo scowled and unstuck his hands from under his armpits just long enough to cup them and yell up at the abomination in the sky as it circled passed them for the third and hopefully final time.

“It's Ho Ho Ho, you jerk!” He jammed his hands back into his pits before he started shivering again. “Drunk ass-holes.”

That reminded him...

“I'm getting more eggnog. Yuzu, do we have any more? Or did Grimmjow guzzle it all?”

“He did,” she chirped back at him. “But I had a feeling about tonight. So I made extra.”

Ichigo smiled.

“You're awesome.”

Heh. Yeah. Because Ichigo didn't have any fights coming up to prepare for.

Except that now, he did.

Christmas miracle number three, then.

The lead weighted elbow that dropped onto his shoulder was a surprise. So damn heavy, he had to push back to keep from being bent down on that side.

“Heh. This ain't so bad...” Grimmjow muttered. But he seemed to regret his words almost instantly, shoulders shifting back and chest puffing out, “For human junk.”

Ichigo turned to say something deep and meaningful, but he had the sudden epiphany that the sentiment wouldn't work out.

He also noticed that Grimmjow was standing with a fist on his hip and one leg crossed over the other, all his weight bearing down on Ichigo while he watched the “sleigh” go by at speeds much too slow and with far too much skin for it to be healthy for any of them.

"Heh. I could see you pulling a sled like that."

Which made it easy to exploit his temporary trust. So he hooked Grimmjow's ankle, and with a decisive twist, brought him crashing down onto his back on the cold hard steps. Then he slammed the front door and ran like hell.

And when Grimmjow caught up to him in three easy sonido's and crash tackled him over the living room sofa, pinning his hands behind his back and threatening to choke him out with the very same scarf he'd given him unless he swore on his honor that tomorrow there'd be more nog...

Well, Ichigo had to believe it might be the beginning of something good.

No.

 _That_ was Christmas miracle number three.


End file.
